


we hold these truths to be self-evident

by luthien82



Series: Senator Blaine AU [8]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Politics, Humor, M/M, Pining, So Married
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-07
Updated: 2012-08-07
Packaged: 2017-11-11 15:24:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/479967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luthien82/pseuds/luthien82
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What does a day in the life of Kurt Hummel, personal assistant of Ohio Senator Blaine Anderson, look like? Well, here's your answer to that question from Kurt's POV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we hold these truths to be self-evident

**Author's Note:**

> Let me start this with a hello to all the new readers! I was a little surprised by the sudden attention this 'verse got because, well, I don't exactly advertise. But welcome! I hope you enjoyed yourself so far!
> 
> The second thing (and after that I'll shut up) is the _length of this story oh my god!_ It wasn't supposed to be this long. When I decided I wanted to write a day in Kurt's life as PA, I had some specific scenes in mind. Stringing them together resulted in all these words. I was told I am not allowed to badmouth my own fic but... well. For me it's a little like cotton candy: sweet but without much substance.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: Glee and its characters are the intellectual property of Ryan Murphy, Brad Falchuk and 20th Century Fox. No profit is made, this has been written purely for fun.

* * *

_”... and today we’re going to have a fantastic 77 degrees with long patches of sun and a less than ten percent chance of rain. In other news, President Mitchell has issued...”_

Kurt tuned out the radio announcer and blinked at his alarm clock, showing him that it was 6am on the dot. He closed his eyes for one more precious minute and relaxed back into the pillows, willing his body to wake up enough to actually get out of bed. While he’d never really been someone who relished getting up early, he’d gotten used to it over the past years. He didn’t really have much of a choice; Washington waited for no one.

After the obligatory minute, Kurt rolled out of his comfortably warm bed and shuffled over to his bathroom, starting the shower and brushing his teeth while he waited for it to warm up. He squinted at his reflection in the mirror and made a face at himself. God, time really hadn’t slowed down, even for him. He poked at the odd wrinkle here and there, thankful that they made him look more distinguished rather than old, before he rolled his eyes at himself and got into the shower.

Ten minutes later, he was lost in his skin care routine that had been his faithful friend for over two decades by now, ever since he’d read an article in Cosmo when he was fourteen. God, thinking about it like that made him feel even older. He pushed those pesky thoughts aside and carefully applied moisturizer to his eye area. The time with his creams and tonics was usually the moment in his morning routine - in his whole day, to be precise - where he went through his plans for the day, trying to remind himself of the things he had to do outside of work. As soon as he was done, he went over to his closet and got dressed, tying his tie without giving it much thought. It was so ingrained in him at this point that he barely even had to look at it anymore.

After he’d styled his hair, he went out to the living room slash dining area slash kitchen. His apartment was open and bright with high ceiling windows on two sides, allowing a great view of a small park and the neatly kept sidewalk in front of his apartment building while letting in copious amounts of daylight. Kurt liked the feel of it: it didn’t box you in, yet still preserved a sense of intimacy and coziness that he’d fallen in love with the first time he’d laid eyes on it. Not to mention that the exposed wooden beams and the dark wooden floors had made his heart skip a beat the moment he’d set foot into the room.

Sometimes, after a long and especially grueling day, he wished he could share the space with someone who knew him intimately and could help him relax and get out of his head; someone who wound themselves around him in their sleep so Kurt wouldn’t have to wake up all alone in his bed every morning. But his schedule was insane most of the time, it wouldn’t be fair to any partner in any case.

Besides, you couldn’t let anyone in if you’d kind of lost your heart to someone else already.

He made himself a cup of coffee - one sugar, a splash of milk - and prepared his usual bowl of cereal. He’d never been much of a breakfast person, but in this business you never really knew when you got the chance to eat something. So he’d started to at least finish a bowl of cereal every morning to keep his body happy, just in case he wouldn’t be able to eat anything for lunch.

A quick peek out of his kitchen window confirmed the announcer’s prognosis of a sunny day. A small smile flitted over Kurt’s face; he’d missed the warmer temperatures. The winter had been especially hard this year, making Kurt wish he was living somewhere warmer, like Florida. But it never took him long to remember that he loved what he was doing and grit his teeth, reminding himself that even this harsh winter had to end sometime.

He left shortly after he’d finished his coffee, his breakfast dishes drying in the rack, and made his way to the Metro, hoping there wouldn’t be any delays this morning. He was always planning for the eventuality, of course, but it would be nice to be extra punctual. There was still a bit of work left from yesterday he’d like to finish before everyone came in.

He was in luck this morning and nothing major happened on his way to the office. He was humming a little under his breath when he entered the building and went up to their offices. His good mood held while he switched on the lights and put his bag and coat away. He hit the power button on his computer and, while it was booting up, went and started the first of many, many coffee pots. If Kurt had learned anything during his time helping his father during his terms as Ohio Representative, it was that politicians without coffee were really, _really_ cranky. So Kurt had taken it upon himself to make sure that there was always coffee around in their offices.

He was still humming while the coffee brewed. So far nothing had disturbed his morning routine, and Kurt sure hoped it would stay that way for a little while longer until he had a chance to finish off the correspondence Blaine had left on his desk last night after Kurt had left.

Kurt had stopped chastising himself for being so informal in his head when it came to his _boss_. Blaine made it easy to like him, and he’d asked Kurt to use his given name many times in the past, but Kurt couldn’t cross that line. It was bad enough that he’d allowed himself the informality in his head; he’d never be so impertinent as to actually call his boss by his given name out loud, even if he wanted to.

And _boy_ did he want to.

As usual, Kurt was the first one in and the rooms were quiet, almost soothing. God only knew that a day in the life of Washington politics was rarely predictable, so Kurt took every quiet moment and cherished it. He loved these first few minutes of solitude while he finished the work from last night and then went through the mail that had arrived after his departure the night before, mostly inter-office correspondence or updated schedules for the senator. He sorted through everything, putting it into neat piles to be distributed later when their recipients had arrived.

Well, except the mail for Blaine. That pile Kurt picked up and brought into his office himself. He left the papers in Blaine’s inbox, then went and opened the window to let in some fresh air. It was too beautiful outside, with the smell of spring tempting you to leave your work behind and just laze away the day. For obvious reasons, neither of them could do that, but it wouldn’t hurt to air out the stuffy office.

Kurt had barely sat back down in his chair and opened his email inbox when the phone rang. He quickly looked at the clock over the door, deduced that he might as well answer because it was only a few more minutes until his official office hours started, and picked up the phone. “Senator Anderson’s office, Kurt Hummel speaking.”

“Hey Kurt, it’s Lydia.”

Kurt smiled at her familiar Southern drawl. “Hey Lydia. You’re in early. Didn’t you have a late meeting yesterday evening?”

She sighed over the line and he could practically hear her eye-roll. “Don’t even get me started. We’ve been trying to clean up a clusterfuck of epic proportions for the last three hours and all I want to do is go home and sleep for a week. My day hasn’t even _started_ yet.”

Kurt made a sympathetic noise. They’d all been there at one point. And as the assistant of the Senator of Virginia for the second consecutive term, she’d probably seen even more bullshit in her time than Kurt had.

“That’s actually why I’m calling,” Lydia continued. “We have to reschedule the meeting about the net censorship. Much as Senator Harper wants to address the issue as soon as possible, we’ve got bigger fish to fry right now.”

Kurt had already pulled up Blaine’s schedule and was erasing the meeting from the ten am time slot. Perusing the coming days, which didn’t look all that promising, Kurt murmured, “Any date in particular you had in mind?”

He heard the clicking of keys over the line, probably because Lydia was doing the exact same thing Kurt was. After a moment of silence she asked, “How’s the 27th for you? Same time? They’re in session after lunch that day, that should give us enough of a safety net.”

Kurt clicked over to the date. The schedule was almost frighteningly empty that day. “Works for us,” he let her know and pencilled the meeting in. After he’d saved and closed the program, he said, “So what’s this big clusterfuck you’ve been trying to defuse?”

“Unfortunately, you’ll probably see it on the news soon,” she sighed and Kurt let her be. That sort of publicity couldn’t be good. Not career destroying, or Lydia wouldn’t have wanted to reschedule, but certainly a little damaging nonetheless.

“Let me know if we can do anything to help,” he told her and received a laugh.

“How about a new nephew for the senator?” was all she said, which was actually enough for Kurt to deduce that the crisis was not of a political nature, at least. Still, it was probably unpleasant in any case.

“Can’t provide that, I’m afraid,” he laughed. “Good luck in solving the crisis.”

“Thanks, Kurt. Talk to you later.”

“Bye, Lydia.”

They hung up and Kurt seized the opportunity to look at his email inbox. It wasn’t unusual for him to have 100+ unread emails in the morning, considering he received most of the official mail for Blaine, to distribute as he saw fit. It was mostly from people who didn’t have the senator’s actual email address, but the occasional newsletter was among them as well. He dedicated about half an hour for that task, greeted his colleagues that had started trickling into the office after his phone call with Lydia, and handed them their mail.

It was another half hour of wielding the phone and printing or deleting emails before Blaine himself entered the office, nose buried in the New York Times.

“Morning, Kurt,” he greeted, a little absently.

“Morning, sir,” Kurt greeted back, pushing the last of the printed emails into his binder. When he was done, he stood up, poured a cup of coffee and followed Blaine to his office with binder and coffee cup in hand.

Kurt had to pause on the doorstep and steel himself with a careful breath. He watched the man lower himself into his chair slowly, still reading the paper. He looked totally absorbed so Kurt allowed himself another moment of just watching him.

Blaine was classically beautiful, and sometimes Kurt _ached_ just by looking at him. He’d almost had a heart attack the first time they’d met and shaken hands in greeting. Blaine’s face had been open and friendly, and his hazel eyes had pierced Kurt’s soul with their intensity. But when he spoke and his voice had washed over him, Kurt had known that he’d be in trouble if he wasn’t careful.

Needless to say, as soon as Kurt saw Blaine dance to the B-52s in his office, he had to admit to himself that he’d been a lost cause from the very start, and that he was head over heels for his boss. It was inconvenient as hell, but it also brightened Kurt’s days whenever he got a chance to just look at this beautiful man who had no idea what he was doing to Kurt.

His heart skipped a beat when Blaine huffed a surprised laugh at something he’d read, effectively startling him out of his musings. Kurt swallowed, took another careful breath to prepare himself for the oncoming meeting, and entered the office.

“I swear to god,” Blaine started talking while he laid the Times down on the desk and stood back up to shrug out of his coat. “These guys are responsible for half the grey hairs I’ve sprouted on my head recently.”

He turned his head when Kurt put the cup down on the table and slid it over to him. “Thank you, Kurt,” he smiled, and Kurt nodded in reply while taking the coat to go hang it up in the closet. His hands lingered on the soft fabric, straightening it out a little.

“I’m serious, Kurt,” Blaine continued and Kurt turned around to look at him. Blaine was pointing at his dark, perfectly styled hair and added, “I’ve found grey hairs on my head this morning that haven’t been there last week. I’m getting _old_.”

He looked so endearingly affronted that Kurt had to bite down on his grin. This man, while a political force to be reckoned with, could be terribly cute without even knowing it.

Kurt was so pathetically in love with him that it wasn’t even funny anymore.

“I hate to break it to you, sir,” he replied, walking back over to the desk and sinking down in the chair across from Blaine, “but you’ve been having gray hairs for the past year.”

“Really?” He actually looked surprised, then bemused, before he settled on some mix of resigned and cheerful. “Well, I suppose I can be glad I’m not getting bald.”

“There is that,” Kurt conceded, eyeing Blaine’s hair critically before he grabbed the binder he’d put on the edge of the desk and added, “If it helps, I think the gray makes you look distinguished.”

And hot, but Kurt wouldn’t blurt that out. He _was_ a professional, no matter how much like a schoolboy the man made him feel some days.

Blaine perked up considerably and gave Kurt a brilliant smile. He looked so pleased and excited at his words that Kurt wanted to lunge over the desk and kiss him senseless.

He wouldn’t do that either, of course. Professionals, and all that brouhaha.

Instead, he opened the binder and took out the updated schedule for the day. “Your meeting with the Senator of Virginia has been rescheduled for the 27th,” he began, handing the sheet over. “There’ll probably be some sort of scandal in the news sometime today, their office warned us so expect some sort of questioning.”

“What’d they do?” Blaine asked, looking over his updated schedule.

Kurt shrugged. “No idea. Lydia didn’t say. Something about Harper’s nephew.”

Blaine grimaced, which told Kurt that he probably had more of an idea what was coming than Kurt did. Which was unusual, but not that surprising. Blaine was likable, and people confided in him. It was what had won him the election as Ohio Senator, after all. He was so damn likable that Kurt wanted to puke sometimes.

Except not really, because Kurt’s feelings on the matter ran more in the direction of, ‘I want to grab him and marry him and move with him to the suburbs and maybe raise a kid or two with him’. It was a problem, but nothing Kurt didn’t have under control. They got along well, for a boss-and-subordinate scenario, but Kurt would never be so impertinent as to try to sex his own boss up.

He may be a walking cliché by falling head over heels in love with his boss, but he wouldn’t be _that_ much of a cliché. No matter what sort of opinions Santana had on the subject. Or Mercedes, for that matter.

Blaine nodded to show Kurt he’d keep it in mind, and they went through the mail and other assorted correspondence together for the next twenty minutes, with Kurt jotting down notes for letters and memos he would have to write later. Kurt made a mental note to also make sure the man ate something substantial for lunch today, unlike yesterday when he’d somehow subsisted on animal crackers because he had to run from one end of Washington to the other all day, only showing his face twice over the span of the day.

When they were done, Kurt stood up and grabbed his notepad and binder. Pressing both to his chest, he leveled an expectant look at Blaine and asked, “Anything else I should be aware of?”

To his surprise, the man hesitated for a moment. Kurt gave him his full attention, sure that he wanted to tell him something. But then, from one second to the next, his expression changed and he plastered a genial smile on his face. “No, that’s all for now,” he replied, shaking his head. “I’ll call if I need you. Thank you, Kurt.”

Kurt nodded and turned, his steps sure yet slower than usual in case Blaine changed his mind. But he didn’t, and when Kurt arrived at the door, he closed it quietly behind himself. He leaned back on it for a second, closing his eyes and letting out a slow breath.

He’d survived another morning routine session without making a complete fool of himself. Go him! But seriously, this infatuation got harder to manage with every passing day. Three and a half years he knew him now. Three and a half years of early mornings and late nights and hastily scheduled meetings and _a trip back to Ohio to visit two beaten up kids_ and Kurt just... he was so _tired_ of fighting this. He knew he would never give in, mainly because he wasn’t sure how the man would react. But it was a professional decision as well. If it ever came out that he’d started sleeping with the boss, he would be the laughing stock of Washington. And if their relationship went sour, he would never be able to get his foot in the door again.

There was just too much to lose here, and Kurt just... couldn’t, even if his pathetic heart screamed at him to toss all his concerns over board and just _do it_.

He sighed and went over to his desk, putting his binder down while sinking into his seat. He’d do his work, which was what he was here for after all, and _not_ give into his silly daydreams of a happy life as the husband of Senator Anderson. So with a resolute air, he opened the binder, straightened his back and got to work.

* * *

Two hours later, Kurt was in the middle of typing up an interdepartmental memo when Henry Morgan, the Deputy Chief of Staff, walked into his office with a brisk pace, waved at Kurt and said, “Don’t mind me, I’ll just be a minute.”

Kurt didn’t even stop typing while he said in a pleasant yet steely voice, “Stop.”

From the corner of his eye, he saw Morgan stop immediately. Kurt bit down on his grin.

“Turn around,” he continued in the same voice while finishing his passage. When he looked up, Morgan was facing him, a resigned look on his face. “Sit down,” Kurt ended, nodding over to the row of guest chairs.

Morgan sighed, his shoulders slumping, but he did as Kurt told him and sank down into the one closest to the exit. Kurt couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at the man. “Did you really think that would work on me?”

Morgan opened his mouth and Kurt waved him off. “Don’t answer that.” He went back to his typing, ignoring the obnoxious tapping of Morgan’s foot on the carpet. Kurt was a master in tuning out obnoxious people; he’d had a lot of practice while growing up, not to mention the children here in Washington that posed as adult politicians had given his ignoring techniques quite a workout. Sometimes Kurt felt like a kindergarten teacher.

Morgan waited patiently for ten minutes before he sighed again, looked pointedly at his watch and said, “Look, it won’t take long--”

“I’m sorry, but you’ll have to wait,” Kurt interrupted him.

“But--”

“No,” Kurt interrupted him again, looking over. “You don’t have an appointment. And how do I know that, you might ask? Because I _schedule_ all of his appointments, and you are not on his list today.” He paused, then took pity on the man and added, “The senator’s in a phone conference right now, and if you would've bothered to call in advance, I could’ve told you that and given you an appointment with him. But you didn’t, so you’ll have to wait.”

Morgan looked mulish, but Kurt was the bigger pighead in this case. “The senator will have a few minutes for you when he’s done with his _scheduled conference call_ , not a minute sooner. You may work for the White House but let’s be honest here: you’re fishing for votes right now because the issue with Senator Harper gave you the jitters.”

Morgan looked a little surprised that Kurt seemed to know his real motives for his impromptu visit. But seriously, it didn’t take a genius to put two and two together, after the news of the senator’s nephew attacking a women’s clinic last night had made the news. Especially when they wanted to pass a federal bill making preventive medical check-ups for women easier. They wanted to make sure they still had the votes they needed.

Kurt could, of course, tell Morgan that he didn’t have to worry about Senator Anderson. He could tell him that, after gay rights, women’s rights were high on his list of issues he took very seriously, and that his vote for the bill had never stood in question. But then again, Morgan was a douche sometimes, and Kurt liked to flex his muscles a little.

Kindergarten teacher, seriously.

Another ten minutes went by before Kurt’s intercom beeped and he picked up the receiver. “Yes, sir?”

“I swear to god, if that man had droned on about his damn horses one more minute I would’ve found a way to clog him over the head _through the phone_ ,” Blaine said, sounding tired and a little angry. Dealings with the Governor of Ohio almost always put him into a foul mood. Kurt made a mental note to get him some dessert with his lunch to cheer him up. Speaking of...

“David called to let you know he’s insisting on lunch today.” Kurt paused, then added, “I highly recommend you take him up on it or I’m cutting off your coffee supply.”

There was an exaggerated gasp on the other end. “This is mutiny!” Blaine exclaimed, though his voice sounded more cheerful already. Kurt bit down on his grin, but only because Morgan was still sitting on the other side of the room, watching him curiously.

“Just looking out for your health, sir,” he replied. “You can have dessert with your lunch.”

“How magnanimous of you,” Blaine deadpanned, but Kurt knew him well enough by now to hear the amused undertone. “Anything else on my schedule before I’ll be dragged out under duress?”

“Henry Morgan is here,” Kurt replied, looking over at the man.

“Oh god, is this about Harper’s nephew?” Blaine asked. Kurt could almost hear his wince.

“I’d rather not speculate, sir, but I believe so.”

He heard the disbelieving scoff, then a resigned sigh. “Send him in.”

“Certainly, sir.” He hung up and nodded at the closed door of Blaine’s office. “You can go in.”

Morgan jumped up so fast that Kurt almost laughed out loud. “You have five minutes,” he added, raising his voice when Morgan stormed into the senator’s office. He only received a firmly shut door in answer. Kurt waited for a beat before he allow himself a satisfied grin.

Some days he really, truly loved his job.

* * *

Kurt spent his lunch break at customs, trying to liberate a package Rachel had sent him from Paris. The key word here was ‘trying’, as he had to give up his place in line to get back to the office on time. He snatched a veggie panini from his favorite sandwich shop on the way back and vowed to try again after work. Hopefully he wouldn’t get out too late today or he’d have to sacrifice a sick day. Or his Saturday, but neither held much appeal to him.

He’d barely sat back down behind his desk and taken a bite from his panini when David and Blaine entered the office, both looking a little frustrated. Kurt chewed slowly, looking at them and trying to deduce what the problem was. When Wes turned up behind them all of a sudden, Blaine threw his hands up in the air and grumbled, “I’m in my office.” Then he shut the door firmly behind himself.

Kurt put his lunch down carefully. “Did you steal his dessert?” he asked carefully. David just rolled his eyes at him.

“No, he’s just... difficult right now.”

Kurt raised an eyebrow at him. Wes shrugged and added, “It’s true. He loves to sabotage himself and we’re a little sick of it.”

Now Kurt was getting worried. Re-election talks and the accompanying campaign work and fundraisers would start in a few months. Did Blaine decide he didn’t want to candidate for a second term? “What’s going on?” he asked, his anxiety plain to hear in his voice.

Wes and David exchanged a long look, conversing with their eyebrows and eyes only. It creeped Kurt out a little bit, if he was honest. He’d never met two people who could do that and weren’t sleeping with each other. But as far as he knew, both men were happily straight and, in Wes’ case, in a very loving relationship with a very patient and understanding woman. But then again, in this profession you kind of had to be patient if you wanted to date someone in politics.

At last, the two men turned back to Kurt and shook their heads. “We promised,” Wes said, voice grave.

“He’ll kill us if we breathe a word of this,” David added.

“You’re not helping my anxiety here,” Kurt mumbled before squaring his shoulders. “He’s not throwing in the towel before the re-election campaign has even started, is he?”

The surprised looks on both their faces appeased Kurt more than their twin exclamations of, “What? No!”

“It’s not that,” Wes added. “He’s being an ass about his personal life.”

“And that’s all, honest to God,” David confirmed.

Kurt narrowed his eyes at them. He hadn’t heard any rumors about Blaine dating anyone. Being in the limelight like that, it was inevitable that the reporters started speculating if you were sleeping with your dinner date, even if said dinner date was a distant relative of yours. Kurt’s ears still rang at the memory of the cry of outrage Blaine had let loose when he’d read that particular tidbit in the papers.

But still, Kurt was pretty sure the man wasn’t dating anyone, much less having the occasional booty-call. Kurt would know; PAs all over Washington had a very reliable gossip network, after all. Plus, he had a vested interest in knowing if Blaine was spoken for or not. As silly as his feelings for his boss were, he always held out a little hope that maybe, one day, they might get together after all. The thought alone, of someone else hugging and kissing and sleeping with Blaine, made Kurt’s chest hurt, so he made it his business to know what was going on. Just to be prepared for the eventuality, he told himself. He’d have to be prepared so he could keep his professional mask intact if the day ever came.

So far he’d been lucky. Blaine was too busy with his job to date anyone, for which Kurt was a tiny bit grateful, in some petty corner of his heart. He knew it could change in a matter of days, but at the moment Kurt hadn’t heard anything, and nobody had called for Blaine that Kurt wasn’t familiar with. So what exactly was Blaine stupid about that involved his personal life?

“I must get back to my office,” Wes suddenly exclaimed, looking pointedly at his watch. David made similarly flimsy excuses, which only increased Kurt’s suspicions that something was going on that he should maybe be aware of.

He didn’t have time to dwell further on it because the phone rang, occupying his attention for the time being.

It was early afternoon when Blaine re-emerged from his office, handing Kurt a whole stack of papers. “Can you mail these out today, please?” he said and put down the papers. He rubbed a hand over his face and sighed, then added, “Oh, and I need you to get me some files from the archives. I’ll mail you the details.” He looked really tired, and worry started to gnaw on Kurt’s insides.

“Another coffee?” he asked, rolling away from his desk to get up just in case, but Blaine shook his head.

“If I drink one more cup my heart might actually jump out of my throat for beating too fast.”

Kurt conceded the point by rolling back to his desk and opening his bottom left side drawer. He rummaged around for a moment before unearthing what he’d been looking for. “Here,” he said, handing Blaine a ziplock bag full of cookies.

Blaine looked as if all his Christmases and birthdays had arrived all at once. “Oh my god, are these your chocolate mint crinkles?” he asked in a careful whisper, and when Kurt smirked at him, he opened the bag immediately and got one out. When he bit into the cookie and let out a moan of pure ecstasy, Kurt swallowed hard, biting his lips.

“I’ll never understand how you can be good at _everything_ ,” Blaine mumbled around his bite, “but I won’t complain if I can profit from the fruits of your labor.”

Kurt didn’t say anything to that. He was a stress baker, so what? He needed to get out of his head sometimes, and baking soothed him. The strict regime of following a recipe calmed him down. So what if he didn’t even eat most of what he baked? His colleagues, and Blaine in particular, certainly weren’t complaining. Quite the opposite; his baking skills were legendary around the offices of Washington at this point, with people telling him he should totally open up a bakery when he was deeming it his time to retire from politics.

The day Kurt voluntarily retired from politics was the day Blaine Anderson was not voted into office again, not a day sooner. Considering that he didn’t have any doubts he would get re-elected, this day was at least another eight and a half years off in the future.

Before Kurt’s thoughts could lead him further down to the point of no return - or Blaine started moaning again - they were interrupted by Blaine’s 3pm appointment.

“Senator Anderson!” Carson Richards boomed in his exaggerated Texan drawl, opening his arms as if he wanted to hug Blaine.

“Carson!” Blaine exclaimed, his voice unnaturally high. Kurt looked up at him and had to stifle a laugh at the alarmed expression on his face. While Blaine liked Richards just fine - they’d been doing some good work together on raising awareness for STDs among teenagers back in Ohio - he was also a little bit scared by the man’s never ending cheerfulness. But then again, Kurt supposed you had to be an inherently cheerful person when you went against fanatic church groups every day, just to ensure that kids these days wouldn’t die because they were too uneducated to know what a condom was.

Carson Richards was a good guy. He’d started raising awareness about STDs and teen pregnancy when it was still a topic that nobody talked about. He’d founded an organization that traveled through the country, doing independent health classes in cities and districts where health classes had been cut from the school curriculum. They’d been five people in the beginning, but after a year they’d had a following and regular donors who were funding their quest to educate school kids. He certainly didn’t have an easy life, but Carson Richards had never lost his faith in the younger generation and the belief that they _wanted_ to learn if given the opportunity.

He’d been proven right when ratings for STDs and teen pregnancies went down in all the districts they’d held their classes in. Richards was in his early 60s now and these days, his cause had attracted a broader spectrum of supporters, both in the private and the political sector. One of his most vocal supporters was Blaine himself.

Still, it was almost hilarious how very much not in control of the conversation Blaine was every time Richards came for a visit.

“Good to see you, my boy,” Richards said, shaking Blaine’s outstretched hand enthusiastically, cupping it between his own and beaming at him. “Loved your speech in the Senate in January. Marvelous, just marvelous!”

Blaine’s cheeks reddened and he threw a quick look at Kurt which he couldn’t quite interpret. Maybe he was shy about it, though Kurt had no idea why. He’d been proud of Blaine’s speech, along with every other staffer. There was no need to be shy about it.

“Thank you,” Blaine mumbled, then gestured to his office door. “Why don’t you go on in, I’ll be right there.”

“See that you get me a cup of that coffee too,” Richards boomed, but thankfully marched over to the doors.

He was barely out of earshot when Blaine leaned down into Kurt’s personal space and hissed, “If I’m still in there with him in thirty minutes, make something up to get me out of there.”

Kurt couldn’t help but give him an unimpressed look. Blaine, however, just threw his _goddamn puppy eyes look_ at him and whispered urgently, “ _Please_!”

Kurt’s heart melted immediately, as it always did when Blaine looked at him like that. Or stood close to him. Or was just there, really. Kurt could feel his face soften while he nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Blaine beamed at him, making Kurt’s breath falter. “You’re the _best_ ,” he whispered, raising his hand to pat Kurt’s shoulder. He seemed honestly surprised by the ziplock bag still clutched in his fist, and he rubbed a hand over his neck in embarrassment. “I should probably leave those with you for the moment.”

“That would be wise,” Kurt agreed and put the bag back into his drawer. Blaine gave the drawer a forlorn look, then sighed and rubbed his forehead.

“Okay, I can do this,” he mumbled to himself, squaring his shoulders. Before he could take more than a step in the direction of his office, Kurt said patiently, “The coffee.”

Blaine stopped abruptly and turned, giving Kurt a grateful look. Kurt went and poured a cup for Richards, then as an afterthought got a bottle of water for Blaine as well. When he came over and pressed both beverages into Blaine’s hands, he received an oddly soft look in return. They stared at each other for a beat or two, then Blaine whispered with exaggerated desperation, “Promise me you’ll _never leave me_ , Kurt Hummel!”

The words startled a laugh out of him. “Get yourself re-elected and you’ve got yourself a deal, sir,” he shot back and almost laughed again when he saw Blaine’s lips twitch.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, then raised both beverages and saluted Kurt. “Thanks.”

“Just doing my job, sir,” Kurt replied out of habit.

But Blaine was just shaking his head, smile firmly in place. “Don’t forget, thirty minutes.”

Kurt nodded one last time and Blaine entered his office. Before he closed the doors, though, he mouthed one last ‘Thank you’ at him, a tender smile on his face. Kurt was frozen to the spot, that smile still playing out in his head while he stared at the closed door.

“I love you,” Kurt whispered to the oak, then startled violently when he realized he’d said that out loud _while staring at Blaine’s office door_. He looked around quickly and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that he was still on his own. He hurried back over to his desk, sank down into his chair and prayed for the end of the day to arrive soon. He wanted to go home and nurse his crush in peaceful solitude. But first, he needed his cheeks to stop burning quite so hotly.

* * *

Someone up there seemed to be sympathetic to Kurt’s plight, because for once he could leave the office relatively on time instead of, say, eight in the evening. But that was probably more thanks to the fact that Blaine had a dinner appointment than any luck on Kurt’s part. So Kurt left the office shortly after five and did a mad dash to the customs offices, hoping to get there in time. He was again in luck and managed to get Rachel’s package after an hour of waiting.

When he got home, he went to the kitchen and started reheating his dinner from last night. While he waited for the microwave to finish, he opened Rachel’s package. He couldn’t help the surprised yelp when he realized _what_ she’d sent him. His fingers shook a little when he unearthed the pristine cut of a charcoal colored, double-breasted Chanel suit jacket, revealing the pants neatly folded underneath. The suit was a little wrinkled because of the shipping, but it was otherwise a beauty that would’ve cost Kurt a fortune if he would’ve tried to buy this in a store here in Washington.

He let his fingers slide over the lapels, admired the slim-cut and the simple eight buttons and how the fabric was as soft as butter under his fingertips. He could practically see it on his shoulders, encasing his torso and complementing the lines of his body.

“Rachel Berry, if I weren’t gay and in love with my boss, I would totally marry you,” he murmured and grinned down at the suit for a moment before the beep of the microwave jolted him out of his trance. He jumped up from where he’d sunken to the floor in sheer surprise, and laid the suit carefully out on his couch before walking back to his kitchen.

He forced himself to eat first, but as soon as he was done, his attention was back on the suit, carrying it down the hall to his bedroom to hang it up properly. He had no idea when he’d have an opportunity to wear this beauty, but you could never be prepared enough in Kurt’s opinion. And Chanel’s suits were timeless.

He wrote a quick but nonetheless heartfelt email to Rachel, thanking her profusely for her generosity and scolding her a little for having missed their last two phone dates. Knowing her, the suit had probably been her way of apologizing for the missed dates, but he wouldn’t speculate on that until she confirmed that suspicion. Considering it was approximately two in the morning in Paris, Kurt didn’t expect a reply until he came back home tomorrow evening.

They were both so busy these days - and living in two different time zones - that they had been reduced to scheduling their phone conversations, sometimes a month in advance. They conversed via email most of the time now, which was a poor substitute for what they’d been having during college when they’d been living together in a small apartment in New York and had been at each other’s beck and call 24/7. But beggars couldn’t be choosers, and these days they didn’t have quite so much relationship drama anymore as they’d had during college. Plus, they were willing to make these kinds of concessions for their friendship. God alone knew they’d had a rough start, they wouldn’t let it fizzle out because of distance.

Still, Kurt missed the quiet evenings snuggled up together in front of the TV, sharing their latest woes and feeding each other ice cream when they were particularly down. He shook the melancholy memories off and logged out of his account. He ran a reverent hand over the suit hanging on his closet door one more time, before he went back to the living room and grabbed the phone for his traditional weekly call back home.

It rang three times before he heard the familiar, “Hey kiddo.”

“Hey dad, how’re you doing?”

“Good,” his dad answered, hesitant. “A little tired lately, but nothing I’m not used to.”

Kurt’s alarm bells started ringing immediately. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, kiddo. Stop fretting, I have a wife for that.”

Kurt had to smile at that. “How is she, by the way?”

“You know,” Burt said, humor in his voice. “Fretting.”

It was exactly what Kurt had needed. The laugh bubbled out of him, and if he knew his father at all, he was smiling into the receiver right about now. He was proven right when his dad asked with a certain cheer in his tone, “So how are you faring, kiddo?”

Kurt shrugged his shoulders, not caring in the slightest that his dad couldn’t see him. “I’m okay. Too much work, but it’s good work so I’m not complaining. Not much anyway.”

Burt huffed a laugh over the line. “You always had a thing for the power plays in Washington.”

Kurt had to concede the point. The minute he’d stepped foot into his dad’s Washington office all those years ago, he’d been hooked. He could never be a politician himself - too much limelight - but he was fascinated by all the strings that were pulled behind the scenes. He’d also developed an immense professional crush on Esther, his dad’s assistant at the time. It was her who’d taken Kurt under her wing, who’d shown him the ropes when he was working there during summer breaks. Even though Kurt had always envisioned himself on Broadway one day, he’d learned early on into his college time that it would probably never happen for him. In college they loved his uniqueness, but the business was a whole other pair of shoes entirely.

So when his dad told him that Esther was going to retire, Kurt volunteered immediately to take over for her. He was fresh out of college with a Bachelor’s degree in musical theater, and yet he took to being a personal assistant like a duck to water. He was _good_ at managing other people’s lives, had done it for his father for a long time already. His father didn’t seem surprised that Kurt was good at this job, he just seemed surprised by how much Kurt loved it.

When his dad had told him he wouldn’t run for another term, Kurt had decided to go back to college for a few Poli Sci classes. Nothing would ever trump hands on job training, but it was good to have the theory behind it all as well. And really, he’d made a name for himself during his time as his father’s assistant, so as soon as he’d finished his brief second stint in college, one of his dad’s former colleagues had snatched him up right away, putting him to work.

“So how is that senator of yours?” his dad’s voice brought him back to the conversation.

His dad didn’t know about Kurt’s feelings for Blaine. He might suspect, but he’d never said anything about it. He was probably waiting for Kurt to bring it up. But his dad wasn’t stupid; he must’ve put two and two together after Kurt had rooted for Blaine from the very beginning, wishing and praying that he would win the election as the first openly gay U.S. Senator and, when he’d managed it, applied as his assistant right away. Kurt hadn’t been able to shut up about Blaine during his campaign, raved about his goals and that it was _time_ for someone like him. And then, a few weeks into his new employment, he’d stopped talking about Blaine altogether for a while.

No, his dad wasn’t stupid. He must’ve figured it out, but in true Burt Hummel fashion he was waiting until Kurt was ready to talk about it.

Today wasn’t that day, however, so Kurt evaded the question and replied, “Busy, as usual. Did you hear what Senator Harper’s nephew did?”

“Oh, I heard,” Burt grumbled, and then proceeded to tell Kurt just what he thought of Senator Harper’s measly nephew.

Kurt relaxed back into the couch and listened to his dad’s voice. He still missed him, some days more severely than others, but he’d learned to cope and looked forward to their weekly phone conversations instead. It wasn’t like Kurt never went home or anything - every time Blaine’s responsibilities sent him back to Ohio for a time, Kurt stayed with his parents - but it was always a little bit of a shock whenever Kurt saw his dad after a length of time. He was getting old, and it scared Kurt.

There was a lull in the conversation, so Kurt brought up Rachel and the present she’d sent him. Burt wasn’t exactly a fashionista, but he still made appropriate noises of awe for Kurt’s sake. He loved his dad fiercely for it.

The topic changed to Finn and his newest deployment to the Middle East. Even after fifteen years in the army, Carole was still worried about her son. She never would’ve thought he’d become a career soldier, had thought he would get his patriotism and idolization of his father out of his system after boot camp. But Finn had found something in the army he’d apparently lacked in his life before joining up, and he’d never looked back.

Kurt was a pacifist at heart, but he was glad that his brother had found something that suited him so well. All of their friends had ended up doing something completely different than what they’d thought they’d be doing after high school. Except for Rachel, of course. Rachel was the superstar she’d always aspired to be.

They let the topic of Finn lie for the time being and moved on to happier news. Carole had just been promoted to head nurse the other day and proudly told him that she finally had some influence on when she would have to work. Which, considering her age, was a blessing. The constant battles with the hospital administration she could’ve lived without, she told him in an undertone. Then Burt reclaimed the phone and proceeded to tell Kurt all about his expanding business and that they had an apprentice now, a young guy fresh out of high school who had an affinity for all the new high technology cars.

They talked for almost two hours in total, which was longer than they usually did, and when Kurt made noises about having to get up early, Burt grumbled, “Well, I guess we should call it a night.”

There was a pause, then, “When’re you going to be up here again?”

Kurt closed his eyes, his brain a little sluggish. “I’m not sure. Probably for the summer recess.”

“Not sooner?”

His dad sounded oddly disappointed. Something unpleasant tightened in Kurt’s gut. “No, I’m afraid not. Why?” When he didn’t receive an answer right away, he added, “Are you _sure_ you’re okay?”

There was a sigh before his dad admitted, “I just miss you, kiddo. That’s all. Don’t worry so much.”

“Never gonna happen,” Kurt replied quietly, adding, “And I miss you too.”

“Well, I don’t want to keep you,” his dad said, voice now brisk and businesslike. “Take care of yourself and we’ll see you in a few months.”

“You guys take care, too,” Kurt answered. “Maybe I can arrange something to come up sooner, but no promises.”

“Don’t worry about it, Kurt,” his dad said gently, soothing some of Kurt’s fears that something might be wrong with his dad after all. “We’ll see you in the summer.”

“Okay. Talk to you next week.”

“Looking forward to it!”

They said their goodbyes and hung up. Kurt looked down at his phone for a long moment, feeling drained and oddly empty after this phone call. He shook himself out of his mood and looked at the clock. It was approaching ten pm so he decided to make good on his promise to his dad and get ready for bed.

His evening skincare routine, just like his morning one, helped him settle down and go over all the things he might’ve forgotten to take care of over the course of the day. He felt his body relax slowly, and when he slid into bed after finishing up, he closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh. Bunching up a pillow, he curled himself around it and closed his eyes, feeling himself slowly drift off to sleep. For a startling moment, he wished the pillow was another body instead, someone warm and solid he could curl up around, to press a kiss between their shoulder blades and pull them closer.

Oh, who was he kidding? He wished Blaine was here, wished he could curl up around _him_ and place those kisses on _his_ shoulders. But just like any other night, he let those wishes go, took measured breaths and let himself drift off to sleep.

And if in his dreams, all these wishes came true? Well, that was between Kurt and his subconscious.


End file.
